You're Late
by Typing Rebellion
Summary: "Fujisaki," she said through gritted teeth, her fists clenched in exasperation. "You're late." / Rimahiko. Oneshot.


**A/N: Short, horrifyingly cliché oneshot. Forgive me.**

**[EDIT]: Thank you so much to Mrs. Flamer for the help!**

Mashiro Rima, clad in a loose, feminine winter coat, positioned herself quietly under the presence of a streetlamp. Her heart apprehensively skipped beats, and her fingers rapidly fidgeted as she shivered nervously in attempt to drive away the haunting November gloom. Impatiently, she huffed, trying to maintain a prideful composure, the arrogance inside her seemingly at risk. There she noiselessly stood, her lips anxiously quivering as her feet awkwardly shuffled against the sidewalk.

Nighttime had fallen and bright stars dotted the sky, accompanying a crescent moon hiding behind the clouds.

Aware of her apparent solitude, she found herself listening intently to any presence nearby, her eyes shifting as she tried to wait. _  
_

Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found.

"That jerk," she muttered to herself, staring earnestly at her own shadow cast down in front of her. "He ditched me."

Rima lifted her arm and peered at her digital watch, her butterscotch curls following her every move effortlessly. She squinted at the tiny numbers that read _8:41 PM_, and, out of boredom, started to switch on and off the light her watch possessed. Holding her breath, she tried to amuse herself as she impatiently anticipated for his arrival.

An hour had passed (or so it seemed) and Rima had gotten quite cranky, the cold finally catching up on her. Cautiously, she peered at her wrist once again - and to her misfortune - only five minutes had slowly gone by. She was devastated.

"Rima-chan!" A voice called out nearby, agile footsteps rushing towards her.

"Nagihiko."

"I'm sorry for the delay!"

A young man, with evident womanlike features, ran to approach her, his long hair being carried gracefully by the wind. Out of breath, he waved at her, and Rima - the ostensibly angelic young demon - grunted at him as a cold greeting. He smiled back in reply.

"It's very hard to escape my dance sessions, really," Nagihiko murmured, his words aiming for a compensation. "Especially when we're secretly dating and all.."

He looked into her eyes affectionately, in which Rima merely looked away, uttering a small "hmph" as a response.

"Rima? You're ignoring me again."

Anger raced inside of her, his cheerful smile only contributing to her annoyance. She'd been waiting for _hours - _alright, ten minutes - and he'd expected her to easily forgive him of his pleading bouts. A look of disdain was sprawled across her face as she glared at him with piercing eyes.

"Rimaaa.."

"Fujisaki," she said through gritted teeth, her fists clenched in exasperation. "You're _late_."

And, as if on cue, the first snowflakes of winter started to drift down.

* * *

It was a late November morning, and Fujisaki Nagihiko found himself restlessly standing in front of a huge chapel, his feet awkwardly shuffling against the cold tile floor. His heart apprehensively skipped beats, and his slender fingers rapidly fidgeted as he nervously shivered to drive away the pressured anxiety that soon would befall him. Impatiently, he huffed, fixing his collar, his neck sweating out of worrisome tension, the tuxedo he wore being a great nuisance to his sanity - and there, Nagihiko stood, his usual imperious gaze replaced by an unfamiliar look of uncertainty.

"Where is she?" He asked himself, pursing his trembling lips to prevent misunderstanding. Sitting behind him were chattering guests, a few gossiping about their utter surprise once they received the so-called _invitations - _Nagihiko almost beamed, proud of his triumphant concealment.

The priest - a fat, bald, and jolly man standing in front of him - tried to amuse him with his life stories, something which Nagihiko refused to be interested in, much to his dismay. It perplexed him, how the priest would remain calm and composed in such a time of dilemma, and Nagihiko would never understand.

Nagihiko uneasily lifted his wrist, peering at his watch, the tiny numbers reading _8:41 am_, his stomach already fluctuating out of nervousness. Out of boredom, he turned the light his watch possessed on and off simultaneously, trying to amuse himself as he impatiently waited for her arrival.

Finally, the doors opened and the church bells started to ring - and right then and there, an angel gracefully walked in.

Her butterscotch curls followed her every move effortlessly, the bridal veil accompanying her as she stepped. Plastered on her face was a beautiful, natural smile, a smile replacing her usual demonic peer. Her tiny hands grasped a beautiful flower bouquet that complimented her pretty face.

She positioned herself beside him, greeting him with a slight nod and a mischievous grin. Nagihiko's dread and anxiety instantly disappeared, a feeling of assurance tugging the sides of his lips upward to form a contented smile, both their optimistic expressions showing certainty as they celebrated one of the happiest days of their life.

As the priest continued to ramble gleefully about holy matrimony, Nagihiko playfully nudged Rima, her head immediately turning for her eyes to affectionately meet his. She tilted her head in confusion, blinking innocently, waiting for him to speak.

"Rima," he murmured, trying his best to obliviously lean sidewards to near her. The priest continued talking, not noticing the couple's communication, and shuddered due to the cold.

"What is it?"

Nagihiko smirked, as he naughtily whispered, "You're _late_."

And, as if on cue, the first snowflakes of winter started to drift down.

**A/N: First story posted here, which was remarkably a oneshot. A short, cliché, and cheesy oneshot. I'm currently working on a multi-chaptered fic, and am wondering if I should post it. **

**Review? **


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